Date: 1742

"A soul immortal, spending all her fires, / Wasting her strength in strenuous idleness, / Thrown into tumult, raptured, or alarm'd, / At aught this scene can threaten, or indulge, / Resembles ocean into tempest wrought, / To waft a feather, or to drown a fly."

— Young, Edward (bap. 1683, d. 1765)

Date: 1744

"Eternity's vast ocean lies before thee; / There, there, Lorenzo, thy Clarissa sails. / Give thy mind sea-room; keep it wide of earth, / That rock of souls immortal; cut thy cord; / Weigh anchor; spread thy sails; call every wind; / Eye thy great Pole-star; make the land of life."

— Young, Edward (bap. 1683, d. 1765)

Date: 1744, 1772, 1795

Man was ordained to "To chase each partial purpose from his breast; / And through the mists of passion and of sense, / And through the tossing tide of chance and pain, / To hold his course unfaultering, while the voice / Of truth and virtue, up the steep ascent / Of nature, calls him to his high ...

— Akenside, Mark (1720-1771)

Date: 1745

"His understanding 'scapes the common cloud / Of fumes arising from a boiling breast."

— Young, Edward (bap. 1683, d. 1765)

Date: 1746, 1753

"Nor sea, nor life, eternal Tempest sweeps, / Hush'd calms succeed it, and the thunder sleeps: / Such, the soft, silent tide, that floods the mind, / To mov'd Compassion's pain-touch'd warmth, inclin'd."

— Hill, Aaron (1685-1750)

Date: 1752, 1791

"Thy appetites in easy tides / (As reason's luminary guides) / Soft flow--no wind can work them to a storm, / Correctly quick, dispassionately warm."

— Smart, Christopher (1722-1771)

Date: 1755, 1771

"The' etherial soul that Heaven itself inspires / With all its virtues, and with all its fires, / Led by these sirens to some wild extreme, / Sets in a vapour when it ought to beam; / Like a Dutch sun that in the' autumnal sky / Looks through a fog, and rises but to die."

— Cawthorn, James (1719-1761)

Date: 1784

"Thy piercing thought / Unaided saw each movement of the mind, / As skilful artists view the small machine, / The secret springs and nice dependencies, / And to thy mimic scenes, by fancy wrought / To such a wond'rous shape, th'impassion'd breast / In floods of grief, or peals of laughter bow'd, ...

— Jago, Richard (1715-1781)